His Own Special Way
by binkley2013
Summary: An AU reimagining of the swing set scene from Watershed, the Season 5 finale. A story that is part critique of the series.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer and Introduction**: The characters and some of the dialogue aren't mine, and I claim no rights or interest in them. For those parts of what follows that are original to me, they're mine.

My first fanfic, or any fic for that matter. What follows is an AU reimagining of the swing set scene from the Season 5 finale, that's part story and part critique of the series. It's premised on _Still_ occurring before _The Squab and the Quail_, as they were intended to be aired.

For those looking only for a happy conclusion to _Watershed_, I wouldn't recommend what follows.

Thanks to my beta and gamma readers for their valuable time and feedback. Their names have been withheld to protect the innocent. All errors are mine.

* * *

"Dad, are you OK?"

"Yeah."

"You seem sad."

"No, I'm fine."

"It's only Costa Rica. I'll be back before you know it."

"Ah, that's sweet, but no, it's not about that. It's, ah, something your grandmother told me. Comes a point in our lives when we have to stop fooling ourselves into thinking life's going to be the way we want it to be. Start seeing things for how they really are."

* * *

Beckett touched his phone number, and maybe for the first time she couldn't guess what kind of reception she'd get.

"Castle." He stopped with that. No quip, no pun, not even an acknowledgement that he knew who he was talking to. Just silence.

"It's me." That Beckett started by identifying herself conveyed how uncertain and awkward she felt. "We need to talk."

"Yeah, we do."

Without the need for discussion, they both knew the talk couldn't be done over the phone. After arranging a place and time to meet and dropping the connection, Beckett brow was furrowed. They hadn't spoken in the few days since he walked out of her apartment. Beckett had instead talked with Lanie and her father, seeking their advice, discussing and considering what was in front of her with the job offer and the effect on Castle. But Castle's tone and clipped sentences left Beckett with a distinct impression that she wasn't the only one who had spent the time making decisions.

* * *

Castle reached their playground a few minutes before the appointed time. He was relieved that the swing set was vacant, and that the park was emptying out as families hurried out, headed home for dinner, baths, and story time. Castle flashbacked to those evenings when he had walked home from a different park with a young Alexis swinging from his arms, laughing, teasing, and sharing stories all the way home.

The memories only added to the weight Castle already felt as he sat down on a swing, so tired that he didn't turn to switch positions after discovering he was facing the sun. It had already been a long day, and it didn't help that he'd only been sleeping little and fitfully. The sleeplessness had started after an equally long day, the night he'd stormed out on Kate as they were preparing a rare home-cooked dinner. As a bachelor, Castle's culinary repertoire had been limited, but necessity being the father of invention (at least in his case), he now took no small amount of pride in the skills and creativity he'd developed in the kitchen since Alexis could eat solid foods. He especially loved cooking with Beckett because of physical closeness and intimacy of those rare events. So the transition had been particularly jarring when he left her apartment angry after he found her D.C. boarding pass.

That night Castle's anger and adrenaline had fueled him, kept him moving around his loft. From his office desk, to his couch, to the dining room table, to a counter stool, and then randomly back again, he couldn't make himself stop as he tried to make sense of it all. He re-ran what had happened, what he knew, what he didn't know, what he thought might be happening, analyzing the situation, minimizing how he felt, his writer's imagination coming up with "best case" and "worst case" scenarios, holding a debate with the 'Beckett' in his head and then holding another debate with himself, sometimes voicing his arguments aloud.

When he finally thought he could fall asleep, he crawled into bed in the loft's guest room. He knew his bed – their bed – would smell of Beckett. He needed sleep but wanted the clear-headedness that came from sleep, and not the distraction or possible comfort that her scent would have brought. But his brain had still refused to shut down. Castle got in and out of bed at least three times that first night, until he was physically too exhausted for his thoughts to keep him awake any longer.

* * *

Between leaving Beckett's apartment and when she called, Castle had reached some conclusions of his own. As Castle sat waiting, he mentally re-examined his thinking, much like a student who finishes a final test early and spends the remaining time checking his work before turning in his answers.

Castle didn't change any of his answers as he sat and waited, mentally rehearsing the lines he expected to use shortly.

* * *

When Beckett walked up, Castle wasn't surprised that he felt her presence before he heard her. She had that kind of effect on him almost since they first met. He glanced her way as she approached, and again as she sat in the swing next to him, facing the opposite direction, looking toward their lengthening shadows.

Beckett turned toward Castle, and spoke first.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept secrets."

"It's who you are. You don't let people in. I've had to scratch and claw for every inch."

"Castle."

"Please let me finish.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking about us, about our relationship. What we have. Where we're headed."

Castle gathered himself, and continued, his weariness reflected in his tone. "You've been the most important thing in my life, you know. I don't really know when that happened. Don't think I even knew it until you were standing on that bomb. The idea of leaving you to die, and me living, wasn't something I could accept. I decided you were more important than my mother, even more important than Alexis. So I choose to stay and become your Bomb Buddy, to face our fate together. I was willing to leave Alexis fatherless, let my mother bury me - or what was left of me - rather than leave you."

Though facing in the opposite direction, Beckett's head was turned and focused on Castle. She saw pain flicker across Castle's face, but it was replaced with a focused expression as Castle took a few deep breathes.

"A year ago, you told me that finding your mother's killer was the most important thing in your life, but then you showed up dripping wet, told me that none of that mattered anymore, and that I was all you could think of, all you wanted. . . I thought that meant that I was the most important thing in your life . . ." Castle's voice had begun to crack and trail off into almost a whisper, but he swallowed, kept his eyes front and down, and continued full voiced. "The other day it became clear that I'm not. I stand somewhere behind 'your life' and your career, and I don't even have a seat at the table when you're faced with decisions that could end what we have. Didn't see that coming."

"Castle, I already apologized for that."

"No, no, you haven't."

"But when I sat down . . ." Kate sounded puzzled, but Castle cut her off.

"You don't get it, do you?" There was no exasperation behind Castle's words, only tired resignation. "You apologized for lying, for hiding the job interview from me. But you haven't apologized for leaving me out of the discussion over the job, or that you were going to make that decision without my input or my thoughts on what your decision might mean to our relationship or even just your career. I thought we were partners."

He paused and, with a furrowed brow and a perplexed look on his face, continued speaking, as if rhetorically. "I'm still can't figure out how and what you planned to tell me when you got the job . . . 'Hey, remember when I quit my job and didn't know what I'd do next? Funny thing is that even after getting my old job back, I went to DC last week to interview for a job there, and guess what?' . . ."?

A small part of Beckett couldn't help but register that no matter how hurt Castle was, it didn't shake his belief in her, or his conviction that if she took the interview, the job would be hers.

"It's not the first time I've faced the question of whether I wanted you badly enough to get over being hurt. If that's all this was, me getting over being hurt, I think I know what the answer would have been. But that's not the question now. When I spoke to my mother about this, about us, she said that you are what you are. Clichéd, I know, but she's an actress, not a writer. She's right though. The question I've had to ask myself was, is that enough? Will that 'enough' make this relationship, us, make sense?"

Kate had been listening to Castle, trying to find an opening so that she could engage Castle in a real conversation, and saw an opening. "You mean, can our story make sense?"

_"_Exactly. I've been trying to understand the chain of events that makes our story and where we are, make sense."

Kate's all-but-whispered question revealed her apprehension. "And . . . ?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Kate had been listening to Castle, trying to find an opening so that she could engage Castle in a real conversation, and saw an opening. "You mean, can our story make sense?"_

_"Exactly. I've been trying to understand the chain of events that makes our story and where we are, make sense."_

_Kate's all-but-whispered question revealed her apprehension. "And . . . ?"_

* * *

"I got nothing."

On the swing Beckett was physically rocked by Castle's admission, but before she could say anything, Castle continued.

"You know, I think the universe is trying to tell me something with our meeting here. Something that the universe drove home by having me wait for you again."

"I got here on time, Castle. You had to wait because _you_ got here early."

"To-may-to, to-mah-to, but me waiting for you is a large part of our story. Seems like I've always been waiting for you. Today it gave me extra time to be sure of my decision."

"Decision? I thought I . . ."

"I'm sorry, Kate. I asked you to let me finish, and then drew you into a conversation. Please, let me go on."

"OK, say what you need to say."

"More than 2 years ago, we sat on this swing set . . ." - Castle paused and looked down the row of swings, in the opposite direction of Beckett - " . . . actually, on these two swings, when you said you weren't going to be able to have the kind of relationship you wanted, until your wall came down. Remember? I was so hopeful that you were talking about a relationship with me, yet I was too scared of how you might answer to just ask."

Kate jumped in to answer his months-delayed question. "I _was_ talking about you. If this is about me not admitting I heard you when I got shot, we've already talked about that. I've explained that I needed the time to heal, time to accept everything that happened the day I was shot."

Castle sighed, and when he started speaking, it was with the cadence and energy Beckett knew well – the tone Castle used whenever he's beginning to explain how he'd figured out who the killer is. "This isn't about you lying then. This is about being back in the same place, 2 years later."

"Castle, you suggested this place to meet. We could have met somewhere else."

Kate expected Castle to take the bait, and banter. For the first time she could remember, Castle ignored her invitation. "In trying to make sense of our story, I couldn't help but wonder why my reaction at your place was so strong, why it clearly struck a nerve. I figured it out. Remember when we argued before Montgomery was . . . before he died, four months before we first sat here? You said – and I think I'm quoting – 'It's my life, not your personal jungle gym.' And then last year, right before you rejected my pleas and went after Maddox, you said that it was your life and I didn't get to decide your life for you."

"Rick, I'm not sure what . . ."

Castle cut her off again, this time his voice more insistent, the words annunciated with care and containing a hint of anger. "But no matter however many times I'd heard it before, after you showed up dripping wet, said you were on board with us, I didn't expect to hear you say it again._ Never_ after this last year."

Castle took a beat and softened his tone. "So I've been asking myself, why? Why haven't we progressed further? Until you were almost killed by standing on that bomb, I thought our story was making sense."

Castle had been looking at the ground toward his feet since he'd started talking, but now he raised his head. Not to look at Beckett, rather his eyes were fixed on one of the couples leaving the park with their two young children. Castle's expression matched his wistfulness in his voice. "I thought I knew where our story was headed, I thought we were almost there. We'd both jumped in last year, and at the end of the day you stood on the bomb, I believed we were both swimming in the deep end of the pool. But since that day, nothing has made sense to me."

"Castle, I know we haven't spoken as much as we need to about the few weeks since, but my interest in this job had nothing to do with what happened that day."

"Well, maybe not directly. But it was then, after you said we were just getting started, that everything began to fall apart. I had to make sense of the story and I couldn't."

"Remember you told me we just have to live with the questions and find our way. I know what the last few weeks have left you - left us - with big issues, but we can find our way."

"It's just not that Kate. When I couldn't make sense of where we are, what had happened, I did what I always do when a character in one of my drafts ends up in a place I don't want. I take a step back, and take a larger perspective, looking for a broader context. So I did that here."

"And that resolved your question?"

Castle barked out a laugh, but not one with any joy. "Actually, it didn't. It actually made things worse. The more I thought about each of us, neither of us has been making much sense. Kate, I've watched you for over 4 years, and I _know_ you. But lately I don't feel you're that Beckett. If someone wanted to bet me that you'd drink on the job, I'd have slid all of my chips onto the "Won't Drink" line. Hell, I've seen you refuse a drink multiple times when working, even when drinking would have helped your cover at a bar or at a party. But with Vaughn?"

Beckett almost physically cringed at the mention of his name.

"You drank on the job – when you were the only security for the target of an attempted murder. But that wasn't the worst. The worst was you letting Vaughn get close enough that he began kiss you."

"I admit I let Vaughn get to me, but I was confused about whether you'd begun to take me for granted, where we stood, where we were going . . . ."

"You could have asked me."

"Rick, I tried and you side-stepped the subject. And you didn't ask either."

"I know, I'm just as culpable as you. We never talk about us, and never have, even after kissing for the first time or almost dying in each other's arms. That hasn't changed either. But even without talking about the big issues – you being confused about how I felt after almost 5 years of me being there, waiting for you, just after I decided I'd die with you if we couldn't figure a way off of that bomb together, makes no sense. And for the record, I was still waiting for you. I bit my tongue all year, holding back the "I love you's" wanting to get out, because I was afraid that you'd feel pressure to say it back, afraid that you still had one foot out the door. So worried that I'd reach too fast, grasp too hard, too soon, and you'd slip through my fingers. But in the last few weeks, it's become clear that I never caught you at all."

"I told you that I'm in this. I love you Rick, and that's something I could never let myself feel 2 years ago, much less say."

"Yeah, but the timing. You said 'I love you' only when you thought it was the very last thing you'd say to me. Did you think that the next day I'd propose? So what, we almost die together, you say we're just getting starting, and when I hadn't proposed in a couple of weeks, you began to fall for another guy? A guy whose 'player metrics' are way worse than mine were 5 years ago when you barely gave me the time of day? That's not the Kate I've stared at all these years."

"OK, I admit I've had a rough few weeks, but it's only been the last few weeks."

"Doesn't change that in the last few weeks, I haven't understood you. But I'm not saying it's just you – in looking at the bigger picture, I looked at me too and I haven't made any sense to me. We almost _died_ together, and within a week I'm playing video games instead of spending every waking minute with you, celebrating that we were still alive and together. The more I looked at my own behavior, the more I saw things, patterns that I didn't like. Heck, forget the last few weeks, the 'me' today compared to five years ago, when I turned around intending to sign your chest."

"You're not the same self-centered wise ass I met then. I hope you don't miss being that guy."

"No, no, and I don't miss wearing scarves either. Thanks for that." For the first time since she sat down and Castle had started talking, Beckett thought he began to sound like her Castle.

"You know I played in a poker group with Montgomery, remember? Did I ever tell you Montgomery told me that you once described me as a '9-year old on a sugar rush'?"

"Oh, gosh, Rick, I said that right after our first case, when I wanted you gone. I haven't thought of you like that for years."

"Thanks for that. And please don't blame Montgomery for telling me; he thought he had a sure thing on a side bet made during a poker game – and he'd been drinking a bit. My point is, over the last year, I _have been_ acting and reacting like a 9-year old. The worst? Right after I cut the controller cord to apologize for my inattentive behavior, I put together a scale terrain for a remote control tank in the loft so I could play tank commander. A tank with a camera, which I used to spy on you while you were getting dressed. Who does that? I mean, who over the age of 15 does that after an argument with his girlfriend over another toy? The "me" of 5 years ago may have given you the impression of a 9-year-old; the "me" of the last year has been a 9-year-old too often.

"The more I thought about my own behavior the last year, the more I saw things I could hardly believe. When the evidence Tyson planted in my loft was found by the boys, my first thoughts were of _me_, and how bad it looked for_ me_. _Not_ that a vicious killer who must have hated me had gotten into my secured building, _not _that he had gained access to my loft, _not_ the need to protect my mother and Alexis. If anything had happened to them . . ." Castle's shoulders involuntarily shuddered with the thought. "In holding, I was so scared for me, I could see it was even having an effect on you. The "me" of five years wouldn't have been scared – he, well, I knew I didn't kill Tessa. Three years ago I knew I didn't kill the sculptor counterfeiter, so being arrested and questioned was just a path back to following you."

Beckett couldn't leave that unchallenged. "The evidence Tyson planted was so much more than being found with a dead body and a gun, it's no wonder you were worried."

"That doesn't change the fact I _knew_ I hadn't killed Tessa. I should have been looking for the story where setting me up for Tessa's torture and killing made sense. Who hated me enough to meticulously plan a bizarre murder like one in my books, one that the police could believe I actually wrote? Someone also psycho enough to commit that murder? I spent my time looking at Tessa's life for suspects – as if someone in her life would have committed a murder to frame me. The 'previous me' would have been looking at my life, for the connection to me that would have made the story all make sense. This 'new me' was cowering like that 9-year-old, and ignoring that I had the best detective in the NYPD convinced I was innocent and working to clear me.

"Even aspects of my previous life I enjoyed have disappeared from this 'new me.' I can't remember the last time I played poker with Connelly and Patterson. Why'd I quit doing that?

"After leaving your apartment the other night and needing someone to talk to, it struck me that my circle of good friends was limited to your co-workers. Outside of them, I didn't have a close friend left that I could talk about _this_," Castle said as he gestured between them. "Heck, I used to have 'guys' I could call for nearly any question on any subject. But not anymore. I'm a man in my 40s, and was actually reduced to seeking my mother's advice." Castle shook his head slightly. "Relationship advice from _my_ mother. I knew then how much narrower my life has gotten … how much smaller… when that was my best option.

"And now, with the DC job, I realized I've become the old Kate Beckett in a weird role reversal thing. You're Will Sorenson, with a job opportunity in another city, freezing me out of the discussion, much less the decision, and I'm the old Kate deciding whether I should leave my life and follow if you go. There, you'd be Josh, with an all-consuming job that wouldn't involve me, with little time for any kind of personal life. Me, the old Kate having to decide whether to hold on to a relationship where you wouldn't be there for me."

Castle bit back his next thoughts, which had come to him that the night after he'd stormed out of Beckett's apartment. _And I've already been married once to a woman who put her career first, and that resulted in me being a single parent to our child._

"I've decided I want more. We both deserve more."


	3. Chapter 3

_"I've decided I want more. We both deserve more."_

* * *

"I agree."

"But this "me", I've built almost his entire world around _you_. Waiting for your call, picking up and meeting you whenever and wherever you wanted, supporting you and giving you whatever you needed. Hell, doing nothing, if that's what you needed."

"I never asked for any of that. You're the one who pushed yourself into my job, then into my life."

"Beckett, I'm really not blaming you, or trying to make you the bad guy in this. Lord knows I've made my share of mistakes. If I could, I'd do anything to take them back and maybe we'd be in a different place. AndI can't deny I've found better, more mature parts of me because of you. Also can't pretend that I haven't lost parts of me I liked and miss. What I did, what I became, was in the hope of having a future with the most remarkable, maddening, challenging, frustrating person I've ever met."

"Rick, you haven't lost you, you've become part of something larger. Us . . . Caskett, remember? That's why we needed to talk, I've made my . . ."

"Beckett, please. I have to say what I need to say now, or I'm not sure I'll be able to. This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and I need to finish."

Kate bit back a response, and let her silence act as permission for him to continue.

"That's what I thought too. I thought we were partners."

Kate couldn't hold back at that. "We are partners Rick. It's just that the DC job is a great opportunity. Maybe a once-in-a-life opportunity and I couldn't pass up interviewing . . ."

Castle interrupted Becket again. "I don't feel like a partner anymore. I thought partners shared, especially the big things . . . always had each other's back. But in the last weeks I've been more like the plucky side-kick _in my own life_. Maybe that's what the universe has planned, but we both know what happens to the side-kick.

"Maybe your wall never came down . . . maybe some of those layers of the Beckett onion are really concentric walls. Or maybe your wall went down, but it came back up." _And maybe_, Castle thought, _the 19-year-old who built the wall was still inside, more wounded than I originally thought 5 years ago, and she doesn't realize how trapped she is_. "I don't know, and it doesn't really matter. I just know that it's been 5 years of scratching and clawing, and I'm can't do this anymore. I'm tired of waiting for you, tired of running after you, tired of walking on eggshells, and most tired of the lies and unspoken truths. Not when I can't be sure that I'll ever really break through your walls – or even if I'll _know_ when I have. Kate, you've become _my_ rabbit hole, and I just can't climb back down that hole.

"So, whatever happens, whatever you decide, I hope you end up happy. You still deserve to be happy. But I deserve to be happy too, and I don't think I can be, given what role the universe obviously requires me to play in a relationship with you. So this is over, I'm done."

"Rick, you haven't heard what I came to tell you! Please give me a chance, and listen to me! Dammit Rick, at least look at me!"

Castle turned and for the first time since Beckett sat down, they faced each other.

Castle saw her greenish brown eyes, swimming in pooled tears, the whites shot full with red.

Beckett saw his blue eyes in the same condition, but she also saw a look in Castle's eyes that she recognized. It was the same look he had in her apartment, a year ago, when he had accepted that it was her life and her decision and he announced that that they were over.

But this was different. His eyes were now clearer, more focused, and she saw resolve in them this time. This time, he hadn't waited for her decision. He'd made one of his own first, and then written the ending.

"I'm sorry Kate. I love you, but this is about _my_ life, _my _story."

Then, before he turned and walked away, Rick spoke for the final time, so softly that Beckett almost didn't hear him … "Good night Kate."

* * *

The next day, Beckett received a text message from Castle:

_ Will arrange to have your things packed and delivered. _

He wrote nothing about the things he had left in his drawer in Beckett's dresser.


	4. Epilogue

**Four years later**

Beckett took the job in DC. She returned to New York only 16 months later, after finding she spent too little time investigating criminal activity, and too much time on DC politics and public relations. Ten months after rejoining the NYPD she married Detective Tom Demming, and is now pregnant with their son.

Castle has never again stepped foot into the 12th Precinct. He said his goodbyes privately with Ryan, Esposito, Lanie, and even Gates. Castle maintains regular contact with them, keeping up-to-date with their lives and celebrating significant events like births. He did, however, miss Espo and Lanie's wedding due to the scheduling of an out-of-town book signing (but did send one helluva gift).

Castle left New York City three years since after he walked out of the playground, soon after Alexis began at Stanford medical school. He visits her regularly, when he travels to consult on the screen adaption of _Heat Rises_ and for meetings on a few original screenplays he has in development.

Castle now lives in New Orleans and still writes bestsellers, but now releases at least two books a year, finding the culture there helpful in his turn back to his "Master of the Macabre" roots and away from crime mysteries (at least those not involving the supernatural).

Martha continues to live in Castle's loft, busy with her acting school and the occasional Broadway audition. When Castle comes to visit his mother, he always lets the Ryans and Espositos know in advance and they work to get together.

Castle no longer generates the kind of fodder that frequently got him into the tabloids, though shortly after moving to New Orleans, his name did appear in a few newspaper stories about a high-profile jewelry robbery that had the local police perplexed. The stories weren't clear about Castle's involvement, though one story included his picture, taken by a paparazzi stringer at a hotel where the robbery took place. He looked good - rested, trim, fit. Partially visible with him in the picture were an unidentified older, silver-haired gentleman and an attractive blonde that the caption identified as an insurance adjuster.

Castle wrote 3 more Nikki Heat books. He has arranged for everyone he considered part of the "team" – including Roy Montgomery's family and even Perlmutter - to receive a portion of royalties from the Nikki Heat books and movies. Plus, for each of the Nikki Heat movies releases, Beckett and the rest of the team have all been invited to walk the red carpet at the New York premiere as special guests of Castle, while he's hosted a same-day premiere in Los Angeles.

In the first Nikki Heat book Rick wrote after the playground, _OverHeat_, Jameson Rook died, off-screen, in an accident that ultimately proved to be a red herring to the book's main plot. In the series Nikki never left the NYPD.

What Beckett had intended to tell Castle when she arrived at the park, she never said.

* * *

**Author Notes**:

The title was taken from In My Veins, the song by Andrew Belle, which the show used during Alexis' graduation speech and Beckett's rain-soaked swing visit at the end of Always. The actual lyric is "people say goodbye, in their own special way." The story was obviously Castle's way of saying goodbye - a goodbye with a Castle-esque explanation.

I believe whenever you decide to break up a relationship with another person, it's always about you because you've decided that the relationship is no longer worth it to _you_. Castle has decided that Beckett isn't good for him and made a decision about his life. He feels the only outcome of any discussion with Kate would be to be pulled back in by the gravitational field she exerts on him, and that's where he doesn't want to be. (I think Dr. Burke would understand about Castle protecting himself.) The idea that this is his final decision, made on his own, resulted in the almost monologue nature of the story where Kate is basically a bystander (another role reversal, from the role she put him in during Watershed).

That also explains why the story didn't have Beckett fighting for Castle. Kate might have tried after Rick said "good night," and might have tried in the days or weeks that followed. But the use of texting at the end was intended to indicate that Castle had no plans or desire to speak to Kate.

As to the Epilogue, I thought about not including one, but then I wanted to make it clear that the break-up was final and not a false ending, and that life went on even after a difficult, heartbreaking event.

Neither Beckett nor Castle fell (permanently) apart. Beckett ended up marrying a man she had earlier described as "really great" and from all appearances on the show, was a good, smart guy who came to really care about Beckett in a short time. Demming's only 'sin' was from the fan perspective - he got between Rick and Kate. At the end of season 2, Beckett decided Demming wasn't what she was looking for "now." In my story, he eventually became her "now" and I imagine he is perfectly fine with a semi-walled, career-first Kate (if she hasn't changed). I don't think that's a clear 'win' for Beckett – she ultimately settled for a relationship that was significantly less than she could have had. And if she's a one and done, she lives with that every day.

As for Castle, I thought he ended up in a good place too. He's moved, energized, and writing more, and physically is in better shape. And I don't think he's ruined for future relationships. He won't find another love like Beckett, but he doesn't want to lose himself again either. And note that Castle's two New Orleans companions in the newspaper photo are Caine Powell (the ex-jewel thief who punched Castle in the 1st season in "Home is Where the Heart Stops") and Serena Kaye (insurance investigator - 'I don't take things that belong to someone else" (or something like that) - that Castle was smitten with in 4th season's "Eye of the Beholder" - in my story, misidentified by press as an adjuster). He's not alone or isolated, and Serena would find him no longer owned.

Thanks so much for reading my story, and for posting your reviews. Each was a thrill to read.

2


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